


from a window above, it's like a story of love

by wildaloofrebel



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: I just love them, M/M, this is really nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildaloofrebel/pseuds/wildaloofrebel
Summary: Patrick Brewer wakes up on the morning of his second anniversary and has some feelings about his husband.Basically just soft husbands.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	from a window above, it's like a story of love

It wasn’t an alarm that woke him, as was the norm on a Thursday morning; through a combination of pure perseverance, and the promise of a lot of wine, they had managed to convince Stevie to man the store until lunch, blessing them with the morning of their second anniversary in bed. So, when he woke up suddenly from a pleasant dream about David in one of his skirts, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to gain his bearings.

It wasn’t the heat radiating from his sleeping husband either, Patrick had become, well, ‘ _used to’_ perhaps wasn’t the right term – David’s hand under his t-shirt, his breath tickling his neck, the weight of his thigh over both of his still had the power to send a whip of something through him every morning. Something he had never been able to put his finger on; something gentle, overpowering, perfect, consuming, something that leaves him overwhelmed but totally at peace.

So, when David’s presence in his bed stopped being enough to wake him up, David’s flailing limbs slapping him in the face became the usual source of sleepless nights in the Rose household, which he figured was a side effect of marriage he could put up with.

But it wasn’t any of that that had pulled him from sleep earlier than he would have liked, Patrick realised when a quick bruise check gave him no clues; it was the rain, pattering rhythmically against the bedroom windows. He smiled fondly, blearily squinting at the time on his phone as he remembered a near hysterical, near soaked David on their wedding day, only to quietly groan when he realised he had woken up with four hours to spare.

Settling back into his pillows, he let his fingers methodically scratch through David’s hair and, right on cue, David’s face screwed up, a soft sigh escaping him, before relaxing, still deep in his dreams. Patrick angled his head to watch him sleep – a habit David had told him was creepy on more than one occasion. Patrick ignored him every time he did, of course, and just kept living for any moment he could get a peek at David Rose without his armour on; moments saved just for Patrick, when they’re cooking together, or under a blanket under the stars in the yard, or in bed together, fingers feather-light or demanding or both on each other’s skin.

They hurt, these moments, but in the best way, like finally scratching an itch you couldn’t reach, or when you laugh until your eyes run and your stomach hurts, but you chase the ache as soon as it’s gone and the moment’s passed.

It’s not that he stops feeling the magic, buzzing feeling when they’re in the store or with friends or vendors or any one of the other million tasks they fill their days with, but these moments serve as a reminder that his husband is the most important thing in his life. These reminders aren’t a punch in the gut, stomach-dropping kind of reminder akin to suddenly remembering you’ve forgotten to send your mother a birthday card, they come in gentle waves, in hushed whispers that say _he’s so beautiful, I can’t believe he’s still here._

Patrick was pulled away from his musing when David stirred suddenly, his body pressing ever closer and his cold face searching for warmth under Patrick’s chin. When his face screwed up again, a low groan rumbling in his chest, Patrick just squeezed him closer.

“Good morning.”

“S’not.”

“No?” Patrick asked, laugh huffing out of him when David just shook his head. “It’s our anniversary.”

“Later.”

“But I got you a present.”

“Later.”

“But I got your name tattooed on my neck.”

“What?” David all but yelled, pushing himself up and inspecting Patrick’s neck.

“Joking, David,” he said, catching one of David’s flying hands and kissing the palm.

“Good,” David pouted, “because you know our agreement on tattoos and piercings; they must be -”

“Jointly approved, I know. I just didn’t think something so tasteful and discreet would need to be discussed,” he said, turning David’s hand over to kiss the other side. “And that glare would be much more impactful without the raging bedhead.”

“Yes, well,” he huffed, laying back down and tugging Patrick with him, “if I had known that marriage would consist of early mornings and mouthguards, maybe I would’ve reconsidered before saying ‘I do.’”

“You love it,” he said, pressing a rubbery, wet kiss to David’s mouth, having honestly forgotten he was even wearing the stupid thing.

“Ew,” David breathed as Patrick took out his mouthguard, with a string of spit following it.

“What? This doesn’t make you want me to ravage you?”

“There will be no ravaging before 8 am, thank you so much,” David said, though any edge his words may have had evaporated when Patrick started kissing his neck.

“I love you,” Patrick said, leaning in to kiss David properly.

“Hm, you’re going to have to start doing better than that.”

“That right?” Patrick asked, matching David’s teasing smile with his own.

“Doesn’t do it for me anymore,” he murmured, eyes bright as he pulled Patrick in again.

“You’re just going to have to give me a minute to try and think of something nice to say to you then.”

“I could give you some ideas, if you want.”

“I’m sure I can think of something, if you give me a minute.”

“A minute,” David breathed, shaking his head.

They kissed again, and again, until Patrick started to feel flushed and giddy with it, the feeling only grew stronger when they parted and David looked just as red-cheeked as Patrick felt.

“I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he whispered, smiling stupidly when David tried to tuck his grin into his cheek. “I can’t believe I get to be yours.”

“Oh,” David breathed, his blush spreading and something unreadable pooling in his eyes. “Happy anniversary.”

“You can do better than that,” Patrick murmured, leaning in and kissing David’s laugh away.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not my best work but it is sappy (and barely edited, oops) so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Title from the CLASSIC Only You by Yazoo


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